Harry Potter the Halfa Wizard
by Dragonkey258
Summary: A trip to America brings unexpected things to Harry's life as he suddenly finds himself with a strange ectoplasm dependency, a tendency to pass through things and the fate of ANOTHER world on his shoulders. But hey, no pressure, right? HP with DP elements
1. Lost Prologue pt 1

**Hello everybody! I know you're probably all frothing at the mouth at me not updating my Sonic/Naruto story and my Negima stories...so please don't kill me for making this new one! I'm not, I repeat, I AM NOT ABANDONING THEM. So please, rest easy and enjoy the show.**

**Credit with the creation of this story goes to Shadow Crystal Mage, who has beta'ed it and given me very good insight. **

**Enjoy!**

**P.S. Before I forget: I don't own Danny Phantom or Harry Potter. So you don't sue. Sue me and I'll sick my muse on you.  
**

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Lost Prologue pt 1

Harry Potter was far from what you would call 'normal'. He was a wizard, which slightly moved him away from the norm of everyday life, but he was also the prophesized savior or the Wizarding World. Not to mention that both parents are dead, killed by a psychotic wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort, leaving him in the care of his aunt and uncle, who at best tolerated his existence with beatings and starvations.

Yes. Quite unusual, the life that young fifteen old Harry leads, no?

Therefore, it came as quite a surprise to him when his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and his cousin Dudley decided to drag him to the United States to meet Uncle Vernon's cousin Jack Fenton. And that is where our story begins.

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"Hurry up boy!" Vernon yelled at Harry, who was currently trying to carry all the luggage in one go. "I want all of our clothes in our room by sundown you know!"

"Coming Uncle Vernon!" Harry called back, feeling his back literally cracking under the insane amount of weight as heard his uncle chatting it up with his cousin and his cousin's wife. With a great heave, he managed to plop all of it on the final step, taking a seat on the one before it for a quick breather.

Even in America, he still couldn't count on any kindness being shown to him

"Hey, need a hand with all that?" Harry heard a voice ask. Looking up, he saw a boy, possibly a year younger than him, with black hair, blue eyes, and wearing a simple shirt and jeans, followed by a girl wearing all black with some dark shaded colors of green and purple and a tanned boy wearing a mishmash of yellow and green toying on some kind of device that Harry had seen Dudley play with at one point.

"Who're you?" Harry asked the trio.

"I'm Danny, and these are my friends Sam and Tucker," the boy in front said, referring to the goth and techie behind him respectively. "Are you Dudley?"

"Dudley the overgrown pig?" Harry asked. "No, I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"So what part of the family are you from?" Danny asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Petunia's side," Harry said simply, getting up. "Ah, I'd really appreciate it if you could help me carry this stuff into the house."

"Sure, no problem," Danny said, taking one of the suitcases. "Geez! What's in here! Bricks!?"

"My aunt's clothes and makeup," Harry replied, resuming his trip upwards.

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A good half hour later of dragging the overly large bags of the Dursley's into the guest room, the newly acquainted quartet went to Danny's room, meeting Danny's sister, Jasmine Fenton along the way.

"Listen Dudley," Jasmine hissed, cornering him right in front of Danny and his friends. "I don't care if your Mommy and Daddy's little golden boy, but if you try to stare at me like that again, you're dead, got that!?"

"But I'm not Dudley," Harry said, a little freaked out how the girl had cornered him that quickly. "I'm the other cousin, Harry."

Jasmine stared at him, then blinked. Looking him over, she looked embarrassed and sheepish, scratching the back of her head, saying, "Oh, sorry about that. He had the gall to leer at me when I went down to the kitchen for a bite. Dirty pig was trying to look me up."

"Ohhhhhkay?" Danny said. "What, do these two look alike or something?"

"No, now that I look at them," Jasmine said, patting the Harry on the shoulder. "Sorry about that. I was just too mad to think straight."

"Its okay," Harry said, not watching her go.

The quartet continued outside, in a bit of an uncomfortable silence.

"So," Tucker started. "Where you from?"

"Great Britain," Harry muttered, his eyes taking a glazed look. "Though to be frank, there's nothing great about the place."

"Huh? Why?" Danny asked.

"I really don't want to talk about it," Harry said, that look still not leaving his face.

"So what do your parents do?" Sam asked.

"Other than dying? Not much," Harry replied, rather curtly.

Sam said nothing, apparently not disturbed for her lack of tact.

With a sigh, Harry turned to Danny and asked, "So what do your parents do for a living?"

"Er, they're ghost hunters," Danny said with a bit of resignation.

Harry's eyes looked up for a second, rather interested in the latest revelation. "Did you just say…"

"WHO SAID THERE WAS A GHOST?!" they all heard voice yell out. Harry jumped a foot in the air while the other three merely took it in stride, as if this kind of thing happened every day.

"There's no ghost here Dad," Danny said with a sigh. "I was just explaining to Harry here what you and mom did for a living."

"Oh, are you sure?" Jack said, going into his pocket and whipping out an odd shaped device that looked very similar to a grocery scanner and handed it to Harry, who was still staring. "Just in case, take this, the Fenton Ghost Identifier! With this little machine, you can find even the trickiest of ghost with its built in ectoplasm detector! And if you kids do happen to find one, let us know so we can capture it and send it back to the ghost zone where the little bugger belongs!"

"Mr. Fenton?" Sam said cautiously. "I think that's the most I've ever heard you say in one sitting."

"What?" Jack asked.

"Never mind," Danny said. "We're just gonna head to the Nasty Burger, right guys?"

"Alright," Jack said, moving letting them go. "Have fun kids. And be sure to watch out for any ghosts!" When they left, Jack stood there, rather thoughtful. "For a minute there, I thought Sam was questioning my intelligence…"

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"So your parent's are ghost hunters?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, for the most part," Danny said.

The quartet continued in silence to the famous Nasty Burger, a well known hang out for teenagers in Amity Park.

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**Review Please!**


	2. Lost Prologue pt 2

Lost Prologue pt 2

"So what're we doing here?" Harry asked, taking a seat in one of the many booths of the Nasty Burger.

"Uh, just hanging out really," Sam said, giving Harry an odd look. "You've never just pulled back and hung out with your friends before on a summer afternoon?"

"Um, not really," Harry said, looking down. "I don't really have that many friends to hang out with really."

"Well, uh, I don't quite know what to say to that," Danny said as he too stared at his distant relative. "Er, um, well, how long will you be staying over?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno."

Danny, Tucker and Sam stared at the child wizard for his lack of conversational input, which didn't go unnoticed by Harry. With another sigh, he pulled out the Fenton Ghost Identifier out of his pocket, which had been beeping randomly ever since he had gotten the thing. "Can someone please tell me why this thing has beeping ever since I got it? Its really starting to get annoying."

Pointing it to Danny, who would seem to be the one to know more about the thing, it started to chime even louder.

"Ghost detected," came the feminine robotic voice. "There is a ghost within five feet of this device. You would have to be a complete moron to not see the ghost."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Um, what?"

Just as if to save Danny from answering the awkward question, all the hamburgers in the Nasty Burger started to glow with a eerie green light, flying outside the windows and swarming around a lone figure, a somewhat female one. Harry couldn't tell what she was wearing, but saw that she had a raised hand where all the meat was circling. What freaked him out the most was that the meat was beginning to stick onto the person, one piece after the other, until it resembled the Hulk from that cartoon that Harry had seen on the plane.

"WARNING! WARNING! HOSTILE GHOST DETECTED!" The FGI beeped. "PLEASE RETREAT TO A SAFE LOCATION OF ABOUT SEVERAL HUNDRED FEET."

Just as he was looking at the device, he was temporarily blinded by a flash of light. When he looked up, he saw that Danny was gone, and Sam and Tucker were there standing as if this was a normal occurrence, although Tucker did have some kind of weird looking thermos in his hands.

"I AM THE BURGER LORD, RULER OF ALL THINGS MADE OF BEEF! YOUR SO CALLED 'BURGER KING' IS NOTHING COMPARED TO MY POWER! NOW, FOR YOUR INSOLENCE OF EATING MY SUBJECTS, I SHALL DOMINATE YOU FOOLISH MORTALS!" it roared.

"Um, where's Danny?" Harry asked.

"He went for a bathroom break," Tucker said quickly, pointing to the small wet spot that was right next to his person.

"Tucker!" Sam hissed. "That's disgusting!"

"What? He said he had to go!" Tucker retorted.

Just as Harry was about to comment on how there was a spilled cup of soda right on the table that was leaking onto the seat and how that was a pathetic lie, another being came rocketing on the scene. It was black and white, that much was obvious, and a resembled a ghost. There was a 'D' emblazoned on his chest, and its two hands were glowing with spectral green energy.

"You! Phantom!" the meat monster thing yelled. "I knew you'd arrive!"

'Phantom' said nothing as he raised one of his glowing hands and released a beam of energy, shaving off a good portion of the meaty skin. "Please, was this the best you could do? You'll be back in the Ghost Zone in no time!"

"Wait!" the meat possessed monster said, holding an arm out. "This was the only way I could get your attention!"

"For what!?" Phantom said, charging another blast.

"The Ghost Zone is changing," the meat monster said. "New strange creatures have arrived, slowly eating at the very essence that makes up a ghost, our souls." As it spoke, the meat slowly peeled off, which confused all in the area. "Heed this warning: Everything in our realm will slowly spill into your own if this threat does not stop." With that, the last of the meat fell to the ground, leaving behind a large pile of cooked and uncooked meat, which all the local dogs were trying to get at.

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It was nighttime, and there was a slight problem in the Fenton the household. The problem was that they hadn't taken into account that there would be another person coming along with the Dursley's so there was a lack of room.

Of course, Harry was the one uncounted for.

When Maddie suggested that he bunk with Jasmine, the latter glared at her mother and then at then at the blushing boy, who while liked the idea of bunking with a cute girl, he didn't relish the idea of getting accused of being a pervert.

Just as Danny suggested Harry could bunk with him, Vernon had cut him off and asked to allow Dudley to bunk with him, leaving Harry to be either in the couch or the basement. Petunia continued and requested he be in the basement, as to not wake him if someone went down to the kitchen in the middle of the night. It was granted without thought by Jack and Maddie.

That, as it turned out, is the true beginning of our story.


	3. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Well, ol' Vernon seemed adamant that you stay here for the night Harry," Jack said as he led the said boy down the basement. "You okay with this?"

"This'll be fine," Harry said quietly as he carried his school trunk, containing his possessions and school things, which he hadn't felt comfortable leaving in Privet Drive. He wondered how Hedwig was doing with Hermione. "This is actually better than what I've had at Privet Drive."

If Jack had heard him, he didn't show it. Opening a utility closet, he began to set up a camp bed. "So, as you know, this our basement. That over there," he said, gesturing to a dark circle of machinery, "is the portal to the Ghost Zone, an otherworldly realm that is the home of supernatural beings like poltergeists and other pesky, evil creatures!" Enthusiasm oozed into his voice like syrup coming out of a bottle, but Harry saw him visibly control himself, obviously realizing that if he kept talking he'd keep Harry up.

"Uh huh," Harry said, not really believing it as he set down the trunk at one end of the bed. He'd met ghosts. Ghosts weren't anything impressive, and not even Peeves, Hogwart's resident poltergeist was really what you'd call evil, though Filch would beg to differ. "And what's that thing?" he asked, pointing to what looked like a giant green mechanical dream catcher.

"Oh, that?" Jack said, the syrup thickening slightly but not getting any stronger. "That's the Fenton Ghost Dream Catcher! It's an absolute line of defense that prevents ghosts from getting past it. So you should be safe for the night."

"Um, thank you Mr. Fenton," Harry said, moving to the camp bed and sitting down on it. It was stiff, but springy, and looked infinitely more comfortable than the floor.

"Call me Jack," the patriarch of the Fenton family said, giving the Boy-Who-Lived a pat on the back. "Don't worry, all the safety's are on, so there is an extremely low chance of a ghost even getting past the barrier. So relax, and sleep tight!"

That said, Harry was left alone, which let him dig his fingers into his ears to clear them. Jack reminded him a lot of Hagrid: big, loud, enthusiastic and just– _just_– a few bricks short of a house.

Getting changed into sleepwear, he hunted around the room before finding the light switch, near the door. Flicking it off, he stumbled through the dark towards his bed, dropping down on it and lying down, the quickly getting up and pointing himself the other way when he felt his toes fall on the pillow. Slipping his hand under the cushion, he wrapped his fingers around his wand. Paranoia of Voldemort suddenly attacking him at Privet Drive had made him sleep with the thing close at hand– he'd had it with him at all times– and just because he was in another continent was no reason to stop. There was no reason Voldemort couldn't Apparate across the Atlantic ocean and try to kill him…

Yes, Harry's life is a wonderful thing, isn't it?

Yawning, Harry pulled the blanket he'd been provided with and tried to get some sleep…

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"…Cedric…"

Harry jerked himself awake, teeth gritted to keep himself from crying out, chest heaving. He lay in the dark, trying to get himself back under control, reminding himself it was all just a nightmare. Still, it was some time before he could get the image of Cedric Diggory, dead in the Riddle graveyard– …_and it's your fault…_ a little voice hissed accusingly in his mind– out of his mind.

Feeling how dry his mouth was, Harry decided to get a glass of water. Fumbling towards his pillow, he pulled out his wand, wrapping his blanket around himself against the cold of the basement and slipping on his sneakers for the same reason. He stood up, and realized he had absolutely no idea where the door was…

After some hesitant stumbling around and tripping on something, he finally felt a switch against a wall, which he flicked on.

Nothing happened.

Flicking a few times still didn't turn on any lights, so he turned around and nearly fell when his foot stepped on something. Kneeling down, he felt and found what felt like a plug, though it was shaped a bit differently. Still, a plug in the dark felt like a plug, no matter what continent it was on. A little random groping, and he felt something else, a socket this time. He was careful not stick his fingers in.

Realizing this must have been what he'd tripped on, Harry took the time to try and put them back together, in case they were for something important, like the water heater. It only took him four tries.

As soon as the two ports clicked together, a hum rose behind him, followed immediately by a bright green glow. Surprised, he spun around. He had just enough time to see a swirling green _something_ when his foot, in his haste to moved, stepped on the blanket he'd wrapped around himself. Stumbling backwards, he bumped into the Fenton Ghost Dream Catcher, which creaked ominously, spinning around quickly in an attempt to catch it, he wrapped his legs with the blanket he was still stepping on and tumbled backwards.

Backwards, into the swirling green.

One of his feet caught on the newly reconnected wire, pulling at it as he fell. It disconnected. The green faded, and once more there was only darkness in the basement…

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_Well, this is new…_ Harry thought as is he untangled himself from his blanket. He found himself floating as if weightless, like those astronauts on TV, somewhere that was… vaguely nauseating. It was all in purples, and greens, with other colors from the 'throw up' end of the spectrum, all seemingly swirled together, forming wavy patterns like a demented starscape. Doors all hung– or maybe they, too, floated like he did– in midair, frames and all. There were occasional rocks, oddly shaped, with flat plateaus and jagged spikes.

Oh, and did we mention the residents?

There seemed to what looked like… ghosts. That is, they looked like the sheet with red eyes cut out, but they were a neon green color, just bright enough to stand out from the nauseating background. They looked… pretty silly actually, but Harry had no opportunity to think this as he finally got the sheet off him. His feet kicked nothing but air, and every movement sent him spinning. The view wasn't helping him keep his dinner down, swirling in sickening ways.

One of the floating rocks came within reach and he frantically swept a hand towards it.

It passed right through.

"What the…?" he said, and tried again, trying to keep himself from spinning around to much as he frantically tried to grab the rock. His blanket flapped where he'd partially tied it around his waist– he didn't want to lose it, after all– focusing all his attention on trying to grab the rock or something, _anything!_

His blanket touched the rock and he quickly pulled himself. As if waiting for it's cue, gravity reasserted itself, and he flopped onto the rock on his back, panting. All he'd wanted was a glass of water, and now…

Before he could continue his train of thought, he heard a girl's voice cry in anger from above him– relatively, at least. Turning over, he noticed a girl wearing tight, dark clothing with pale skin and teal colored hair pulled in a tail and carrying a huge purple guitar in her hands, hands on strings and neck, though her expression was more suited to her holding it by the neck and swinging it like a club. She floated in the air, as if it were perfectly natural, surrounded by… Wait…it was impossible…

What the hell were bloody DEMENTORS doing in this here!?

These Dementors were swarming the girl, floating around her, about half a dozen or so, and as if his noticing them was some kind of signal, Harry felt the world sound muffled, the small sounds he'd been hearing seemingly coming through a layer of cotton. Cold started to creep into his limbs, and in his mind's ear he began to hear distant screams. Something floated before his eyes, and he blinked, shaking his head to ward away the memory of Cedric. Harry watched in horror as the girl began to fade away, her feet seeming to start dissolve and unravel, even as she tried to fight back by finally swinging her guitar. The expression on her face never faded.

Like some sort of instinct, his hand had grabbed for the wand he'd stuck in hiswaistband. Pushing himself up and standing and cried, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A jet of silvery light erupted from the wand, and the cold, visions and sounds that had been creeping on Harry vanished. The light resolved itself into a stag, its hooves seeming to find purchase on the empty air, its head down, and horns sharp as it charged.

The Dementors paused in their swirling, having noticed a new person come in the way of their meal, lost all interest in the girl and turned their attentions to Harry.

After all, fresh meat was always preferable.

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Ember knew she was screwed over.

Right when these black cloaked things started chasing after her, she could feel herself, the very core of her being slowly disappear into nothingness. It kind of reminded her of her own death, a very unpleasant memory, but it also brought up painful and humiliating memories from her life that she had thought she had long forgotten.

Her attacks were useless against these things. It wasn't like they were immune, they just didn't care. Her blasts pushed them back, but they still came on, and her mind-control chords were of no use. They were too single-minded ot be diverted.

When they swarmed her, she felt that she was done. Her strength was failing, and she was desperately swinging with her guitar, a part of her disgusted with herself for using it so…

…until she heard someone yell out 'expecto patronum'.

Looking around, she saw a kid standing on a rock, a big piece of cloth wrapped around his middle and pointing a… a chopstick? A sliver light came from it turning into some kind of deer or something…

Hearing those words, the black cloaked beings ripped their attention off her and directed it to the new guy, who stood his ground, still pointing the chopstick like it was any good.

They met the deer-thing's charged… and tore it apart.

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Harry felt the cold rush back with a vengeance, stronger than ever before. That couldn't have happened. That COULDN'T _HAVE **HAPPENED**_. How… how did the Dementors destroy…?

And then they were on him, and he tried to summon up another Patronus. Silver light burst fromh is wand, but it had barely formed the stag before it, too, was torn apart. He tried again, and its head was torn of before its legs resolved. Again and again he made Patronuses and again and again, the Dementors tore them apart. Flashes of Cedric's death flicker in front of him, and screams and cries rang in his ears. The cold dug into his bones like icicles. He slowed down, silver light reduced to flickers as the Dementors, circling like sharks, grew more excited. He felt his despair growing as the Dementors began to circle him…

Just as they lunged, a huge dragon, pale blue like the crescent moon, appeared beside him, spewing out blue flames that pushed the Dementors back. With a great roar, it backhanded one of the creatures with one of its talons, before blasting it with a fireball.

That finally seemed to make the Dementors back off, though some kept circling back, only to be met with blasts of fire. Then there was a flicker of black cloaks and they were gone.

Just as Harry blacked out, he heard a girl's voice yell, "Hang on!"

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When Harry came to, he found himself on a bed, being tended by a girl with… bright green skin? She had a greenish glow to her blonde hair, and a golden necklace hung around her neck. On a table next to the bed, he could vaguely make out his wand and glasses.

"Oh, thine are awake!" the girl said.

"I guess," Harry said blearily moving his head a little and falling still. It hurt too much to move. "What happened?"

From the back of the room, guttural voice barked– and it _was_ a bark– an unintelligible but semi-familiar series of words. When Harry turned his head to see who spoke, he blinked at the sight of a werewolf with black yet green tinted fur sitting against the wall. It barked another string of words at him.

The girl smiled at him, making Harry blush a bit. "Wulf was saying how lucky thy are to be unharmed. Thou must pardon he; Wulf speaks only Esperanto," she said, her voice lilting almost musically.

"Thank you," Harry said. His head was starting to settle down now, and he felt he could try to sit up. He did so, the girl, who introduced herself as Dorothea– "But thy may call me Dora,"– helping him up.

Wulf said something to him that had a lilt of a question in the end, and Dora translated. "He asks what thine are doing here in the Ghostzone. Not many of the living enter this place, except for Danny Fenton and his comrades."

Harry blinked at that– _Danny comes here?_– but replied, "I was trying to get a glass of water, tripped over something and fell into this… green… thing." Even as he said it, he knew it sounded silly.

The two blinked. "Come again?" Dora said, looking confused

"I was trying to get a glass of water, tripped over something and fell into this swirling green thing," Harry said, closing his eyes. "I think I must have accidentally turned on the portal mister.– er, Uncle Jack told me about and fell in." Wait. That meant

"Well, it was most fortuitous that thy did," Dora said, handing him a glass of water, which he drank from eagerly. "Had it not been for thee, Ember would surely have been unmade into nothingness. Thy gallant deed delayed the foul Eaters from consuming Ember, of the Music With Rocks In, granting time for I to come to thy rescue."

Harry managed to follow the gist of what she was saying, despite all the 'thys' and 'thees' in there. "Who's Ember?" Harry asked, latching on to something he could readily understand.

"Yo! So how's the kid?!" said another voice from the doorway.

When Harry looked up, he saw same girl who had been attacked by the Dementors. Her guitar hung from her back, her hair flickering like a candle flame. Her pale skin glowed with a bluish light.

"Thy savior is well, Ember," Dorothea said. "He has told us his tale of fortune and circumstance, that hath brought he to come to the aid of thine."

The girl frowned slightly, but she could obviously translate what Dora was saying, and walked over to Harry.

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Before I forget anything, I must give credit to where credit is due:

Story beta'd and written in collaboration with Shadow Crystal Mage (where the original plot bunny came from).

I hope you enjoy the madness soon to come!

Dragonkey258 & Muses


	4. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Harry was silent as girl walked up to his bed. She looked like one of those musicians, those "damned 80s rockstars!" Uncle Vernon complained about (because sooner or later, he'd complain about everything on the planet), with her tight black leather pant and boots, with the equally tight black top that left one shoulder bare. He could make out two small bumps on the strained fabric, and, realizing what they were, snapped his eyes up, although not fast enough to be noticed. She was attractive up close, with her turquoise hair, flickering like a candle flame with her movement, flowing down her back, her blue-green eyes, framed by their dark markings, looking on him like a queen deigning to notice a subject– and a dirty, scruffy one too, at that. She carried herself that way too, every step firm and just short of a stomp, as if crushing some sort of opposition under her booted feet.

Her feet which, Harry realized were still slightly transparent and tattered in a way that had nothing to do with shape, like bits of them had been roughly torn out of existence, leaving the rest with jagged edges…

His eyes snapped up again before he could start staring at how her left boot heel seemed to stop existing about an inch from the ground without apparently affecting her stance in any way, and forcing him to traverse the terrain again, of her long, shapely legs in their tight black leather, her bare, bluish midriff, those bumps, her shoulder…

It didn't help when Ember suddenly seemed to take a deep breath, arching her back slightly so that her front and the bumps… _protruded_… rather obviously.

Gulping, Harry blushed furiously, trying to bite the inside of his cheek to contain it, as if that would work. Turning away to hide the blush that was gracing his features, he tried to clamp his emotions down tightly and hide the redness on his cheeks. He missed the flicker of a satisfied smile on Ember's face, as well as the reproachful look Dora directed at her. He definitely missed Wulf's rather… _ wolfish…_ grin. Ember gave the other girl a similar grin in turn, with all the satisfaction of one whose been messing with teenaged boy's hormones for most of her life, before her expression settled into a curious frown,

"So, uh, who the hell are you, skinny?" Ember said. "And what the hell did you think you were doing back there?"

Harry managed to turn towards her, nearly snapped back at the girl's rude words, but heard her tone. It held the timbre of someone who'd never had to thank anyone for anything in their life (or approximation thereof) because to date, no one had ever done anything for her to be thanked for, and was a little weirded out that someone would take the time out to save someone like her.

"It was… the right thing to do," Harry said. Then, feeling this might not be enough, added, "And I can't stand those things…"

----------*----------*----------

Introductions were in made, and conversation was taken up once more.

"So what brings you to this side of dead, skinny?" Ember asked, in a voice at wasn't exactly rude, but was threatening to be with every syllable.

"Um, I just wanted a glass of water really," Harry said.

Ember blinked at him. "Say what?" she said.

"I already explained this to Dora," Harry said, "but I just fell into a Ghost Portal while looking for a glass of water."

"Right…," Ember said, sweat-dropping a bit. "Anyways, Dragonia there said we gotta get your ass outta here pronto, cause according to wolfy, you ain't gonna be part of the living much longer if you stay here."

"Why?" Harry asked. "What'll happen?"

"Well, wolfy said that the best thing that could happen to you is that you starve to death and move in here permanently," Ember said shrugging her shoulders as if that were an everyday occurrence.

"And the worst thing?" Harry asked, apprehensive.

"Walker the Warden finds you and you _wish_ you could starve to death," Ember said, grinning nastily.

"That… doesn't sound good," Harry said. "Okay then...when do we leave?"

"We may leave now, if thine wish," Dora said, bustling towards the doorway. "We needs must hurry though; those foul Eaters may arrive anew to finish what they began." Wulf knuckled after her.

"Those Eaters," Harry said, grabbing his wand and glasses from the side table, and getting up to follow, with Ember behind in tow. He started to fold his blanket for carrying as he went this place was cold. "When did they start appearing here?"

"They started to appear moon and some days past," Dora said, frowning at the unhappy memory. "Their first victim was a simple peasant of my realm under my protection. The foul fiends unmade him up like wolves upon a faun, as if he had never been."

"But how do they do that exactly?" Harry pushed on.

"I cannot say for certain," Dora said. "None who saw it clear have ever returned unharmed. Those who ran say that the Eaters surround their unfortunate prey and unmake them in some fashion by bringing forth their darkest essences, which they consume, leaving nothing behind. As I said, none who know more have returned to speak the tale."

"Lovely," Ember said, rolling her eyes. Then she suddenly remembered something. "Hey, skinny! What was that thing you did with that chopstick of yours?"

"What, this?" Harry said, whipping out his wand. "This isn't a chopstick, it's a wand for magic."

(Elsewhere in the Ministry, the sensors for the Statute of Secrecy where beeping/whistling/screeching/whatever noise a machine can make to alert people that the Secrecy was shattered. The wizard at the time looked up, and realizing that it was in America, turned it back off, dubbing it as a false alarm. Or maybe superheroes. Either way, it was those damn Yankee's problem…)

"Magic?" Ember asked, giving him a _look_. "What, as in a rabbit out of a top hat kind of thing?"

"Nay Ember," Dora said, "I think that thy savior is of the descendant of Merlina, the granddaughter of the great Merlin, who was said to have spread her magic throughout many families in the world. This magic, shaped by words of the old tongue, was prevalent during the time I was alive."

"Uh, I'm not so sure about the whole descendant part, but yeah, I can do some of the magic that Dora described," Harry said, and then went into a rather limited explanation of what he knew of the technical aspects of magic (wishing that he had stayed awake for some of Professor Binn's classes and had listened to Hermione better) and went into describing the Patronus Charm, the spell that had been used to save the ghostly rocker girl.

"So you're saying that you can repel these things?" Ember asked in amazement. Even Wulf was looking impressed.

"I should have been able to," Harry said, looking down. "But they seem stronger here, somehow. You saw what happened the last time I tried."

"Do not feel ashamed of thine weakness," Dora said, lifting his chin up. "After all, thy did save Lady Ember from her defeat of the Eaters."

Wulf began to growl something Harry couldn't understand, but Dora could. "But alas," she said, "We have to take thee home."

Harry could say nothing against that.

----------*----------*----------

The four of them traveled to the portal that linked the Ghost Zone to Fenton Works. Ember was silent, which the other two ghosts found odd, while Wulf and Dora (in her dragon form) where out on full alert with Harry on the dragon's back. The silence in the area made Harry uneasy, and the phrase "Peace of the grave" came to him more than once.

The cold coming over him, a muffling of the sound of Dora's wing-beats and a sudden depression were their only warnings when the Dementors attacked.

Just within sight of where they said the portal to Fenton Works was supposed to be, near where he'd come tumbling through, Wulf growled as his claws began to shine with a ghostly green light and Dora managed to growl out, "Beware, the Eaters are coming!"

And come they did. Swarming in all different directions, coming out from behind rocks and the strange floating doors that Harry now knew led into various ghost's demesnes, there must have been at least a hundred of them. As they drew closer, Dora exhaled a plume of blue flames that kept them at bay, while Ember provided backup with her musical blasts and Wulf struck those who came too close to him.

"Back off, skinny!" Ember yelled at Harry, who despite almost falling off Dora's back was trying to keep a hold of one of her spinal ridges with one hand and use his wand with the other. Ember played another chord to push the Dementors back further. "We got this!"

"Yes, thy must flee!" Dora added before torching another Dementor. Her tail wrapped around Harry and weakly flicked him towards where the portal was supposed to be, only to quickly disengage to swat a group of Dementors who'd swooped after him. Still, Sir Newton's laws being what they were, that was enough to send him tumbling in more-or-less the right direction.

Harry tried to catch a passing rock and nearly howled in frustration as his hand passed through. It took him several tries to finally grab one, pulling himself on top of it and drawing his wand. One end of the blanket he'd wrapped around his waist pulled free and flapped loose, but he ignored it. He'd always had a hard time obeying when he was being told to run. It was against his nature.

Harry gripped his wand tightly. He pushed off from the rock, he rushed back into the fray, raising his wand upwards, crying out, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!!!"

At his call, Prongs sprouted from his wand, charging ahead of his summoner. The stag managed to take the Dementors by surprise, using it's antlers to knock back several who were crowding around Ember. The massed Dementors bumped into each other, giving Wulf and Dora some breathing room, which they made full use of.

"What are doing here!?" Ember yelled. "I told you we got this!"

"I'm not a coward!" Harry yelled back. "Gryffindors don't run!!"

"_WHAT THE FUCK IS A GRYFFINDOR?!?!?!?!?!!??!"_

"Now is not the time for stupidity!" Dora snapped, lashing out with her tail. "This is not bravery, Harry: There is nothing brave about rationally choosing non-existence!"

"I don't care!" Harry yelled, calling Prongs back to him (with Wulf riding on the stag), making the Dementors scatter before the embodiment of happy memories. "I'm not running!"

That was as far as the conversation got to before the Dementors rushed again.

The wall of black rushed at them, more silent than the grave (which could be quite noisy, what with all the maggots and bacteria throwing a party and eating your flesh, and you bones dropping off and stuff), as numerous as the stars, and worse than death. Ember, Dora and Wulf could attest to that.

Harry had time to see Prongs torn apart by the Zerg rush of Dementors before there was only cold and blackness…

And screams…

And light…

-----------*----------*----------

Dementors have lousy memories. Most apex predators do. It comes from being on top of the food chain. And when you're at the top, the only things you have to remember are who might try to bump you off. Dementors seldom have this problem. Usually, the only things trying to bump you off are those like you, and Dementors are one of the infinitesimally few apex predators who do not see others as competition. And as Azkaban shows, they are also one of the few who practice farming.

But sometimes, farm goods aren't enough. Sometimes, you need fresh meet. And when there's many of you, it's everyone for yourself. Afterwards, there's no hard feelings. How can there, in one who eats feelings? And during, there's no trying to steal another's food. But before…

Everyone for themselves…

Let the eye of perspective come to rest one Dementor in particular, in the lead. It was young, as these things could be reckoned with Dementors, and eager, as much as that term can be applied to something like a Dementor. So it was in the front, straining to get at the warm, juicy one, ignoring the cold ones who were filled with little sustenance. It ignored the little white flashes of light the prey tried to make to drive them off, just as it ignore the cold ones behind it. It was full with the cold, stale food, and they'd all eaten their fill, more than their fill, but you could never have too much and besides it wasn't what they wanted, what they sought, not like the warm one…

In fact, the Dementors had been eating a lot since they'd come here. Ghosts were a strange, interweaved mix of energy, consciousness and emotion, all interspersed in unique was that gave the ghosts their strange quirks– and of course, powers. The Dementors only wanted the emotion, but ate everything, and so were just a little bit full of… artificial additives. They did not eat ectoplasm. They weren't made with ectoplasm in mind. But it was in them now, building up in their bodies as waste, but also changing and strengthening them unknowingly until their bodies disposed of it with number one or number two or some number three no one has ever conceived of…

(Really, stop conceiving it!)

The Dementor swarmed with its kin around the warm one reached the head first as it ceased it's feeble attempts at struggling, and lay it's mouth over it's prey, and began to feed. Those around it crowded thick as they tried to consume as much as they could of what was escaping from the warm one but the Dementor ignored this, ignored the sounds of the cold prey struggling in other's grasp behind it, ignored the bestial final cry of rage and pain and fury, ignored the shouts of outrage as it fed, it's prey's warmth/light/food coming into him, felt it's prey becoming loose and relaxed, felt the hunger inside it begin to be sated…

It could _not_ ignore the blast of light, sound and fire, all charged with ectoplasmic energy and rage that slammed into him from behind.

And then there was nothingness… and _hunger…_

-----------*----------*----------

Ectoplasm. It is energy and substance and, in the Ghost Zone, the source of all, if not life, then existence. It is in everything and everyone, _is_ everything and everyone. It's in the rocks and the light, because it _is_ the rocks and the light. It's in the not-air you breath, the food you eat, the water you drink…

Inside Harry, the little glass of water of ectoplasm… reacted.

-----------*----------*----------

Let the eye of perspective draw back as the final swan song of light, sound, and fire tear at the Dementors crowding one dark-haired boy from behind. Let rage of crimson red slam into and through the Dementors. Let omnipresent energy pass into them, and through two locked in a twisted parody of a kiss. Let it find one little glass of water, already spread through the body by the wonders _of_ the body.

Let there be light as magic made its presence known. Le the twisted touch of a foreign soul, binding one who should be dead to a parody of life react…

-----------*----------*----------

Dementor's reeled back in shock in confusion as… whatever… faded. A black cloak like theirs', edges tattered, hung in the air, pale arms and bare feet protruding. A pale glow emanated from them, despite the cloak managing to look as dark as… well, a Dementor's.

Fingers twitched around a wand.

Shivering, the cloaked figure seemed to roll, curling into a ball as confusion came from it.

It was still warm.

The Dementor's approached, slowly, almost cautiously, unsure yet still hungering…

Behind them Wulf whimpered his last.

The figure's head went up, tilting.

Then it barreled into and some place through the Demtors, slamming into those around Wulf, pushing them back. Pale hands held what was left of the werewolf ghost, touching him tenderly. The canine head opened its one good eye, and rumbled something in it's throat.

It sounded like, "Harry…?"

The cloaked figure leaned forward… and fed.

And suddenly the werewolf as gone, only so much green mist that the form was even then scooping in its pale, glowing hands and drawing towards the hood of its cloak…

Again the Dementors moved closer, while behind them rose Dora and Ember's cries… and stopped as the figure turned towards them. A pair of glowing electric blue eyes regarded them from under the hood. One pale hand seemed to convulse…

Pale green fur made a smooth coat on his arms as they seemed to elongate slightly, nails growing, straight as knives, glowing a slightly brighter light. Beneath the hood, something growled…

-----------*----------*----------

In the dark basement room of Fenton Works, a cot stood conspicuously empty. The metal arc of the ghost portal hung dark and empty. The Fenton Ghost Dream Catcher cast a nearly imperceptible green glow over everything.

Just inside the portal, four parallel lines appeared in midair, seeming to slice diagonally straight through the ether. A pair of green furred hands seemed to grasp the infinitesimal edges of the cuts in the fabric of reality. A black-cloaked figure pulled its way through the cuts. It swayed on its feet, as if unused to walking, and stumbled.

It fell into the lattice of subtle green light within the Dream Catcher. There was a flare of light, and the figure let out a cry of pain. It seemed to fuzz around the edges, pieces being torn out in syrupy blobs. The figure flailed a hand wildly, and a blast of electric blue light shot at the machine.

Not surprisingly, this seemed to make things worse.

Finally, the figure fell back to the floor, jerking and spasming wildly as lightning-like arcs of blue ectoplasm crackled across the figure's body. Behind it, the tear in reality began to close as the last of the syrupy ectoplasmic globs were drawn into it.

The figure lay there, an electric blue mist seeming to rise from the edges of it's tattered cloak, traveling upward. In it's wake, it left pale flesh, pajamas, and a blanket wrapped awkwardly around it's torso. A wand was held between fingers tight with tension, a small purple guitar hanging from a black chain encircling its wrist. Around its neck was a simple gold chain, from which hung a golden pendant with a green stone. Blue light flickered under the edges of closed eyelids before they died away. Harry Potter slept.

At the corner of his mouth, a greenish line of ectoplasm dissolved, its mist streaming into his mouth…


End file.
